


Lonely As A Cloud

by Rogue_Bard



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogue_Bard/pseuds/Rogue_Bard
Summary: Inspired by a tumblr post: what if Yasha died in the Cathedral?
Relationships: Yasha/Zuala (Critical Role)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	Lonely As A Cloud

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by ficegoldpieces' post on tumblr: https://fivegoldpieces.tumblr.com/post/189535063343/fic-where-yasha-dies-and-her-soul-is-unwilling-to
> 
> Yay first fic in a new fandom! I'm finally caught up, so I'm falling down the fic rabbit hole with a vengeance. 
> 
> And yeah, I know that the 6th level spell is Raise the Dead and I don't think it has the ritual component of Resurrection, but We Do What We Want For Max Feels in this house.
> 
> Title from the poem "I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud" by William Wordsworth, which I feel is a very Yasha poem, tbh.

It was quiet here. Yasha’s world hadn’t been quiet in months; her mind buzzed with Oban’s presence, her ears rang with the Hand’s twisted laughter. True rest was impossible, and the exhaustion had sunk so thoroughly into her bones that she seemed to be composed of it. Now everything was still and dark, the silence soft and warm, almost tangible, almost wrapping around her. She hunched her arms into her chest, trying to take the odd silence and turn it into a hug. She’d never been much for physical contact before, but oh, how she wished for a hug.

Still, she stiffened when arms wrapped around her from behind, body going taught as she looked for her sword, only to find it not there.

“Oh come on Yash, don’t be like that. It’s only me.” Yasha spun in the loosening arms, eyes widening. Before her stood Mollymauk. Straight and proud and as much a ridiculous rainbow as he always was. As he always had been, it took her a moment to remember. Molly wasn’t anything, now, because Molly was-

“Am I dead?” She asked, lightly curious, but somehow not as bothered as she felt perhaps she should be.

“Always to the point, that’s you.” Molly said, smiling a little sadly. “You are, my darling friend, just as I am. Though perhaps not for long.”

“What?” Yasha asked in confusion.

“They’ve finally found you. Our friends, they’ve only just got you back. You didn’t really think they would let you go so soon, after all this? Not if they could help it. They couldn’t, before, with me. Now they can.” And she would have expected Molly to be disappointed about that, to be bitter that they hadn’t been strong enough to save him when he’d been cut down. But instead he just sounded so proud. The confidence and wonder in his voice took her breath away. It appeared that even in death, Molly never stopped believing in his friends. But it didn’t mean his friends couldn’t be wrong.

“No, they can’t.” Yasha said firmly. “They can’t want that, not after everything. The things I’ve done-”

“I know, darling, I know. I’ve been watching all this time. I know what you’ve done. And I know you fought every step of the way. You didn’t fail just because you weren’t strong enough.” He held up a hand against her protest, “You. Didn’t. Fail. You were as strong as you could be, and now it’s time to let your friends lend you their strength.”

From above, or at least what seemed to be above in the odd emptiness she found herself in, Yasha heard a faint voice. Caduceus. Steady and calm, saying something about seasons and times and the Wild Mother. The sound faded out, and a warm breeze blew through the area where she and Molly stood.

“You see?” Molly said, hitching his head upwards, “They are calling for you. They want you back.”

Yasha looked at him in helpless confusion. “Why?”

“Because there are so many beautiful things left to experience in life, and you deserve them all,” said a new voice, from behind her. Yasha turned, and there, whole and beautiful and there, stood Zuala. Yasha barely stopped to think before she was striding forward and throwing her arms around her wife. Zuala held her, and for a few minutes they both just stood there in a sobbing embrace.

Another voice came from above, slightly louder, certainly faster. “Technically, technically, the spell says only three of us can talk, and I’m the cleric so we need me anyway, but Nott and Caleb miss you too. Even Fjord. And you need to come back and tell him he’s wrong because he’s going to owe me to much money, I’ll even give you some Yasha…” Jester's voice trailed off into the blackness, but the interruption was enough to bring Yasha to her senses.

“I’m sorry.” She said to Zuala, finally, after years and years of saying it to the stars in the sky, instead of to the ones in her wife’s eyes. “I left you, I failed you, and I’m so, so sorry.”

Zuala’s hand came up to her face but instead of striking out she brushed the tears from Yasha’s cheek.

“Oh my love. Why would you be sorry? You lived. My one solace in going to my grave was that you had survived. You would never have been able to fight all of them. Even for me.” She reached up and began peppering Yasha’s face with kisses. Her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. “Loving you, and being loved by you, was the most precious gift I have ever received. But the second most precious? Was to watch over you these past years. You have not just survived, my love. You have been learning how to _live_.” Zuala cupped the back of Yasha’s neck, bring their foreheads together. “I am so very proud of you.”

The next voice was the clearest any of them had been. “Yasha? This doesn’t make any sense, but- Yeah, okay _fine_ , Jess, I’m talking, I’m talking. Look you know we aren’t mad at you, right? We know it wasn’t your fault, we all get mind controlled sometimes. We lost you, we couldn’t save you sooner, and I know I suck at apologies Yash, but we’re so, so sorry. Come back to us so we can start making it up to you. Please?” Beau’s voice didn’t fade out like the other’s had, it felt as though she’d just finished what she was saying, and Yasha stared up in disbelief. How could they think the had anything to make up for? That she was worth it, after everything she’d done?

“You always underestimate yourself, my love. I’m pleased you’ve found companions who appreciate you, even when you don’t appreciate yourself.” Zuala said, her smile tender, her voice tinged in laughter. It was so lovely and perfect that Yasha felt tears gathering in her eyes again.

“But I can’t leave you! I won’t do it, not again!” Yasha protested, clinging to her wife’s arms.

“I’ll be here in good company,” Zuala said, looking over at Molly with a small smile. “You have so many roads left to walk, my love. You have so many flowers left to bring to me.”

Yasha buried her face in her wife’s hair with a fresh wave of sobs. Zuala held her through them, and when they quieted she took Yasha by the shoulders and looked her in the eye.

“The most precious gift you could give to me now? Is to live. To love. And to keep on fighting. You burn so brightly, my Yasha. The world is not ready to lose your fire just yet.” Squeezing her shoulders, Zuala leaned forward to meet her wife’s lips for one last kiss, before she let go, and stepped backward into the blackness.

Molly followed her, a quick ‘tell Beau I love the ink, will you?’ thrown over his shoulder before he too faded into darkness.

And on another plane, on a cold stone floor soaked in blood, with tears in her eyes, Yasha sat up.


End file.
